"It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, . . ." Thus begins the famous opening paragraph of the story that Wikipedia claims is the best-selling novel of all times. Published originally in Dickens's periodical All the Year Round in 31 weekly installments beginning in April, 1859, it has now sold over 200 million copies.
    In October, 2014, about two months ago as of this writing, I read Thomas Carlyle's The French Revolution, and was surprised to find that Dickens studied this amazing history on which to base this present novel. I am fascinated with the French Revolution, perhaps because I sense a similar boiling point building in America, even globally, as the wealthy increasingly oppress everyone else. Dickens has always been one of my favorite authors, and when I realized that it was high school, or early undergraduate school since I read a major novel of his, I was stupefied. That's a forty year hiatus! Then amazingly, I opened a box shortly after, and found this book jumping out at me. What a magnificent way to end my long Dickens dearth. A Tale of Two Cities is a nothing less than a work of genius.
    In my youthful years, I perhaps missed the subtleties of Dickens's writing, but now as a mature and experienced reader, I fully appreciated his art as well as his message. As in most of his writing, there is humor—usually tied to characters who are not the sharpest pencils in the box, and usually have funny names. In this case, it is Jeremiah Cruncher, the messenger. The two cities are London and Paris, and the time frame is the decade preceding the French Revolution, beginning in 1775 and ending during the Reign of Terror. The action at first takes place mostly in London, and partly in Paris, and sarcasm, wit, and irony abound. But the last third of the story takes place in Paris only, and there is little room for any humor. It is here that we learn all the horrible truths about the characters in which we are acquainted. And here is also where Dickens has proved the mastery of his art, as one by one we understand the relationships between all the people who have taken center stage throughout the unrolling of the storyline, and these discoveries, though they clarify the ambiguous areas, nonetheless send shockwaves and shivers up our spine. Truly astounding! It has been twenty-four hours as of this writing that I finished the book, and I am still reeling from its effects!
    The novel begins in the dark, (and so do we), as the Dover mail coach struggles up a steep hill. The few passengers walk in the mud alongside it to lighten the load. Just then everyone is on edge as a rider approaches, being vulnerable to robbers in their situation. But it is a messenger for one of the passengers, Jarvis Lorry, saying "Wait at Dover for Mam'selle." Mr. Lorry responds, "Jerry, say that my answer was RECALLED TO LIFE." Lorry ponders deeply if the person who is being recalled to life will care to live.
    We soon learn that the Mam'selle is a young lady of about seventeen, an orphan named Lucie Manette. Mr. Lorry is a longtime faithful employee of Tellson's bank of London and Paris, and stresses as he meets his client that this is strictly a business transaction. We discover that it is Miss Manette's father, imprisoned in the Bastille for nearly eighteen years, who has been "recalled to life." Lorry had handled the family financial accounts, which is why he has been chosen to undertake this particular duty. They travel to Paris where they contact Mr. Defarge, a wine shop owner, and an activist who will soon, along with his wife, be a leader of the movement which effectively wipes out the aristocracy and nobility in France.
    Dr. Manette was imprisoned without charges being brought against him, and without trial. His wife died soon after. Lucie, of course had no idea her father was alive. But when Defarge leads them to the upper apartment where the doctor remains locked in, kept mostly in the dark, they are confronted with a man whose mental and emotional faculties are nearly gone. He has learned the craft of shoemaking in order to have something to do and he sits, working on his shoes while the three enter the room, barely even aware. But it is Lucie who, without fear, approaches him and speaks to him and touches him, opening just a tiny bit of light at the end of a long tunnel.
    They prepare to remove Dr, Manette back to London, and set off soon after. As they are about to leave, though Dr, Manette still has little cognizance of what is taking place, he requests his tools, unfinished shoes and bench. Madame Defarge quickly fetches them for him and off they go. Thus ends the very brief Book One.
    Book Two, the longest of the three, begins five years later. Amazingly, through Lucie's love and devotion, Dr. Manette has recovered both his mental and physical faculties. In fact, they live in a pleasant house in Soho, where the Doctor, now filled with life and energy, sees regular clients and Lucie keeps house, with the help of her longtime caretaker, the faithful Miss Pross. Dr. Manette remembers his imprisonment and his life before prison, but the time period when he was rescued is forever lost to him. He still keeps his shoemaker's bench and tools in his room, as a form of comfort and security, but when he starts to slip away, Lucie is able to bring him through. Their life is sweet and peaceful. And though Mr. Lorry had originally insisted that their relationship was strictly business, in fact he has now become a close friend, and regularly spends time with the father and daughter.
    Here we also gain a stronger image of the great Tellson's Bank:

When they took a young man into Tellson's London house, they hid him somewhere till he was old. They kept him in a dark place, like a cheese, until he had the full Tellson flavour, and blue mould upon him. Then only was he permitted to be seen, spectacularly poring over large books, and casting his breeches and gaiters into the general weight of the establishment.

    Mr. Lorry was certainly a blue cheese, yet not nearly as ripe as the seniors at Tellson's.
    We also discover more about Jerry Cruncher:

The scene was Mr. Cruncher's private lodging in Hanging-sword Alley, Whitefriars: the time, half-past seven of the clock and a windy March morning, Anno Domini seventeen hundred and eighty. (Mr. Cruncher himself always spoke of the year of our Lord as Anna Dominoes: apparently under the impression that the Christian era dated from the invention of a popular game, by a lady who had bestowed her named upon it.)

    (Dickens excelled in creating comedic idiots!) In any case, Mr. Cruncher has a son, and a wife who gets beaten up when she prays for him. He calls it "flopping" and swears it brings him bad luck. But we shall see later that she knows he's doing something that requires her prayers.
    On this particular day, Mr. Lorry has sent Jerry, his messenger, to the Old Bailey to attend the trial of one Charles Darnay, accused of being a traitor and spy, a crime punishable by the most tortured means, and one in which he certainly will be convicted.
    Lucie and her father are in attendance, reluctantly, as witnesses. They have little to add, other than Mr. Darnay was extremely kind to them on the boat ride from France to England. Though his accusers believe they have created a sure case against him, it is false, and the brilliancy of Mr. Darnay's attorney, Mr. Stryver, along with his colleague Mr. Carton, amazingly get Charles Darnay acquitted. Mr. Carton does nothing but sit staring at the ceiling, but it is his nearly identical physical likeness to Mr. Darnay that causes enough doubt in the jury's minds to acquit him.
    We don't like either of these two attorneys, but our opinion will drastically change throughout the rest of the story. Mr. Stryver is moving up in his profession, but would be going nowhere without the genius of Mr. Carton. But Mr. Carton's problem is that he's a drunk with no ambition or self-respect. He is content to do all of Mr. Stryver's work and receive no credit.
    All these people gradually work their way into Lucie and Dr. Manette's lives. But it is Charles who has the most favor, and will become Lucie's beloved husband and Mr. Lorry's and Dr. Manette's beloved friend. However it is Mr. Carton who is transformed the most by Lucie, whom he also loves. In fact, he loves her so much, that he will do anything for her happiness. Anything, as we will witness at the end of the story.
    Shortly after the trial, we switch to Paris, where we get a sour taste of the blatant lavishness of the aristocracy, nobility, and here, the clergy:

Yes, it took four men, all four ablaze with gorgeous decoration, and the Chief of them unable to exist with fewer than two gold watches in his pocket, emulative of the noble and chaste fashion set by Monseigneur, to conduct the happy chocolate to Monseigneur's lips. One lacquey carried the chocolate-pot into the sacred presence; a second, milled and frothed the chocolate with the little instrument he bore for that function; a third, presented the favoured napkin; a fourth (he of the two gold watches), poured the chocolate out. It was impossible for Monseigneur to dispense with one of these attendants on the chocolate and hold his high place under the admiring heavens. Deep would have been the blot on his escutcheon if his chocolate had been ignobly waited on by only three men; he must have died of two.

    After Monseigneur's Paris reception, a Marquis angrily leaves the building. He enters his carriage and drives off at a careless speed, caring naught that there are people in the streets. But they're peasants—what matters if a few are killed. As he turns a corner near a fountain where there are a number of people gathered, a cry is heard and a man grabs up a bundle. It is a child, and it is dead—killed by the carelessness of the Marquis. The Marquis throws the man a coin for his grief. Someone throws it back at him.
    But somebody has clung to the carriage. The Marquis returns to his estate, expecting his nephew to be there. He is not, so the Marquis begins to dine. The nephew does arrive. It is Charles, and he has no affection for his uncle. He disowns him, in fact, and wishes to separate himself from the evil of the family name. Charles returns to London, where he will work to earn a living, rather than live off the labor of the serfs. The next morning, the Marquis is found stabbed to death by the father of the child he has killed—the man who clung to the bottom of the carriage. He has left a note signed "Jacques."
    We become much more acquainted with Defarge , also called Jacques. In fact, they are all "Jacques," and meet regularly at the wine shop as they plan revenge. But the one most to be feared is Madame Defarge. Appearing innocent on the outside, she sits at the counter and knits and knits and knits. And hears every word spoken and knows everything going on, and knits a record of everyone she meets. It isn't until the end of the story that we learn her true identity and the extent of her hatred.
    Meanwhile, Lucie and Charles are happily wed, living in the house in Soho with Lucie's father and Miss Pross. Charles has kept his true identity secret to all but Dr. Manette, who makes him promise not to reveal his bloodline to Lucie. A little girl, Lucie, is born, and later a boy, who dies young. But Mrs. Darnay hears echoes and is filled with fear. The Reign of Terror has begun in Paris, and Mr. Lorry, now nearly eighty, must travel there to attempt to save Tellson's clients' money. A letter arrives addressed to the Marquis St. Evrémonde, but no one knows of anyone by that name. Charles sees it and says he knows the man. It is he, and the letter is from a faithful servant begging help because he is in prison.
    Charles, having no idea of the horror taking place in Paris now and the danger he will be in, departs without telling his family, but leaving a letter for them to read after he is gone. He, of course, is arrested because he is nobility, and a member of a family particularly hated. That alone is evidence enough to send him to the guillotine. I will give no more clues as to the conclusion of the story, but let it suffice to say that your heart will pound through the entire Book Three.
    If you are unfamiliar with the events of the French Revolution, I highly recommend reading Carlyle's history (see link above) before reading this one. Though Carlyle's writing is much more personal than most history books, bringing to life the important people and their roles, Dickens's novel gives one a whole new perspective. In Dickens, we neither hear about nor care about the fact that the king and queen were guillotined. We care about the characters in the story who have lives and loves, just as we do, and we understand, to a point, how humanity can only take so much abuse before it explodes. But, as Dickens points out, oppression is oppression, and after the nobility and aristocracy and clergy were all beheaded, the peasants turned on each other. I found it horrifying to learn that it was against the law to mourn for someone who had been put to death, even if it was your parent, child, or spouse. There was no longer any compassion, mercy, and certainly no justice. Just anger, hatred, and obsession with extermination, which had to run its course and finally burn itself out.
    One cannot read Dickens without being impacted in some way. He lived in a time of brutal poverty and struggle, and wrote about it so that his readers could immerse themselves in the reality of the time, even two centuries later. This book is one of his best, and an absolute must-read.

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